“Where exactly are you from?” old Lori questioned with a wave of her gnarled fingers.
“I was raised on Braccio.”
Everyone’s eyes widened.
“I was not aware we had a settlement on Braccio,” Belni replied.
“We don’t,” Nicht interjected.
“So how did you come to be raised on a planet outside of the Legion?”
“I couldn’t say.” Cygne really didn’t know how she wound up on Braccio.
“Are you telling me your parents never speak about why they’re on Braccio?” Belni eyed her shrewdly.
This was a contest, and it was apparent the Matrons were studying her carefully. They were too smart for her to simply evade their uncomfortable questions about her odd upbringing.
“I do not know who my parents are. I was raised by a female I’ve always considered to be my mater,” Cygne admitted, hoping she wasn’t instantly disqualified because she had no family.
“And what did she tell you about your parents?”
“Nothing. Mater found me and raised me as her own.” Cygne didn’t mention Mater thought she was her own deformed hatchling, since that obviously wasn’t the case.
“That was kind. What of your adopted fathers? What do they do on Braccio?”
Cygne realized the Matrons still believed she was raised by the Olor, but didn’t correct them.
“Mater did not have broodmates.” Mater’s mate died before Cygne’s siblings were hatched, and she never mated again.
“How did she possibly manage on a distant planet without her males?” Calesse asked dubiously, a hint of shock lacing her voice.
“We fended for ourselves, and the valley provided everything we needed.” Was that so odd?
“So, you don’t know who your parents are. You were raised on a planet that isn’t even inside of Legion territory. Did you go to finishing academy or any academy at all? What can you possibly offer the Legion, besides questionable albeit lovely breeding stock?” Calesse hit her with a barrage of questions.
I’m ruining my chance.
Cygne looked from Calesse’s pinched face to Belni’s scrutinizing expression, then to the other observant females. She couldn’t flee, or physically fight her way out of this. And her broodmates couldn’t rescue her. She was entirely on her own, just like the Drakes said.
“Great. She’s already wilted. The Olor public will run right over a timid thing like you.” Calesse scowled.
Calesse was right. A part of her had wilted. She’d been ridiculed for one thing or another her whole life. Cygne thought things would be different when she came to Olor. She thought she’d find a measure of acceptance among her own people. But that wasn’t the case. She wasn’t Braccio although that’s where she grew up, and all she knew; and she wasn’t Olor, even though her heritage said it was so. She was trapped somewhere in the middle, both and nothing all at the same time.
Cygne straightened her shoulders and held her chin up as she focused on the females sitting in judgment of her. She’d weathered this storm before. Although it shattered her heart, feeling her broodmates slip from her grasp, she’d survive—like she always did.
“I am sorry you feel that way. I doubt any of my skills, experiences or knowledge will convince you otherwise,” she replied.
“I don’t think she’s wilted just yet,” Belni chuckled and a few of the other females did, too. “So, let’s forget your untraditional upbringing. What are the skills, experiences and knowledge you speak of?”
“I heard Cygne has an exceptional singing voice.”
Cygne jumped in surprise. She didn’t realize Kaede’s fathers were still standing behind her, and Nicht sounded so much like Kaede. She smiled at him in appreciation. They said they couldn’t help, but at least they weren’t against her.
“Every female boasts that talent. And her wise broodmates don’t contest it,” Calesse snorted.
“That is true, but let’s hear you,” Belni insisted.
“All right.” Cygne stood and swallowed down the nervous lump in her throat. This is no worse than singing at the tavern.
“Well,” Calesse asked impatiently, as Cygne decided what to sing.
“Into the night I fly.
With only the starlight as my guide.
Where am I running, I do not know?”
Cygne’s melodic voice rose in volume, till it echoed off the walls. As always, she became caught up in her song, letting it pour out, like an extension of herself. Cygne glanced toward her broodmates as she released the lyrics that had been swirling in her mind since she met them. She tried not to stare, but couldn’t help looking at them with longing. Cygne finally found where she belonged, only to have it dangled just out of reach. So, she told them just how much they meant to her, the only way she knew how.
“In the darkness you spoke to me.
You saw the person I wished to be.
And in the shelter of your kind words,
I finally found my world.”
“They say the stars belong only to the night,
so perhaps I’m also the dew, clinging to the grass so verdant and bright,
or the spark that ignites a flame.
I became so much more, the moment you whispered my name.”
When Cygne finished, she realized the room had grown deathly quiet and all eyes were focused on her. She shifted awkwardly on her feet. At the tavern, the Braccio whistled when they appreciated her performances, but the Olor just stared.
“That was indeed exceptional.” Belni smiled, and Cygne sighed in relief. At least she did one thing right. “Now, Cygne, surely that’s not the only thing you have to offer.”
The questions were unending. Cygne talked about herself more than she ever had, or ever wanted to. The Matrons didn’t just quiz her about her upbringing, but also how she’d react in certain situations, along with her thoughts on various matters. Belni was kind, but unrelenting. Calesse was just as unrelenting, but not nearly as kind. As much as Cygne hated to admit it, Kaede’s aunt was right. She wasn’t cut out to help rule an entire people, and was in over her head. When they were finally done, she slumped in her chair, mentally exhausted.
“Thank you, Cygne, it was a pleasure meeting you.” Belni concluded their conversation, without giving a clue as to how she did.
“Thank you. It was nice meeting you as well.” Cygne bowed politely.
“Anitra is waiting to take you back to the female quarters.” Nicht pointed toward the door. His wane smile spoke volumes.
Cygne glanced around the room, and found that only a few people lingered, conversing in small groups. The disappointment that her broodmates weren’t among the remaining stragglers was crushing. She was hoping for the opportunity to say good evening and hear their voices, or maybe a casual brush against their wings. She needed some simple consolation, since once she stepped through those doors, she was sure she wouldn’t be invited back. But that was not to be. As calmly as she could, Cygne headed for the door.
“How did it go?” Anitra inquired.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she replied as they traversed the halls.
“So, do you have to be out by morning?” Tristis demanded, wearing a spiteful eager expression, the second Cygne and Anitra walked through the door.
“Anitra, I’d like to go to bed, please.” Cygne was in no mood to put up with Tristis, after the ordeal she went through.
“This way.”
She ignored Tristis’s huff, and followed Anitra into the large chamber lined with beds.
“I laid out a sleeping gown for you. Do you need help changing?”
“No. Thank you.”
Cygne quickly changed and curled up in the bed, hiding her face from view. Life would go on without the five males that showed her just how wonderful living could be. But now, it would be so much harder than before—before she knew what she was truly missing.
Now that all the color has drained out.
She prayed for sleep to
take her as quiet tears streamed down her cheeks.
14
The Courting Ceremony
“Never had she danced so beautifully; the sharp knives cut her feet, but she did not feel it, for the pain in her heart was far greater.” Hans Christian Andersen
* * *
“I can’t believe how early it is.”
“Stop complaining. Anitra, I need your help!”
Cygne awoke in the cold, lonely bed to the sound of arguing. She groaned as she instantly remembered where she was. It felt like she hadn’t slept at all, and the spoiled females’ strident voices weren’t helping her pounding headache.
“Are you all right? You kept crying out something about slave poachers.” Anitra frowned.
“I’m sorry.”
Yesterday, the Matrons pushed her into recounting how she left the valley. Although she glossed over the worst of her abduction, she still remembered it vividly. When added to her morose mood, it propelled the harrowing event into her dreams, where she relived the nightmare over and over.
“You should be. None of us got any sleep with your whining. Do you have any idea how important today is?” Tristis snarled.
“I don’t know how we’re expected to get ready with only Anitra to help all of us,” Roso groused.
“Do you need any help getting dressed?” Anitra offered Cygne.
She looked around. Today was so important, yet half of the females were still wearing their sleeping gowns, like helpless fledglings, as they fretted with their hair. They treated Anitra like a slave.
“I appreciate the offer, but surprisingly I’m not the most helpless one here,” Cygne whispered.
Anitra snorted, then covered her mouth. “You might be able to find a gown left in the dressing room. I don’t think they hoarded them all.” Anitra rolled her eyes.
“Thanks,” she chuckled. “So, no one came to tell me to leave yet?” Cygne nervously asked.
“No.” Anitra shook her head.
Cygne headed for the washroom, did her business, then evacuated before the others swarmed in.
I don’t know what Anitra was talking about, there are a ton of nice gowns hanging in here.
Cygne surveyed all the options, then chose a deep red gown that caught her eye. She also selected a chemise and a pair of tiny briefs that hugged her bottom. Underclothes were a luxury she hadn’t grown up with. Once she’d pulled on the burgundy gown, Cygne studied herself in the reflecting glass.
Now, what to do with my hair?
She liked the way Anitra fixed it the night before, but had no clue how to twist it into the fancy knots, so she left her long platinum tresses down.
Which one of these did she use on my lips?
According to Anitra, a little color on the face, to make your features stand out, was considered fashionable. Cygne spied the compact of lip color and put a smear on her lips. She noticed the eye color, but didn’t dare attempt to apply it.
I’ll just end up looking like I smeared my face with coals from a fire, she smirked.
Cygne nearly ran into Deprime when she left the dressing room.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “Do you know where we’re supposed to go this morning?”
Cygne hoped that if she could get to the ceremony early, then she wouldn’t be here when someone came to dismiss her. Granted, they could always expel her from the ceremony, but she might get one last chance to see her broodmates.
“No, but I bet one of the guards in the hall can take you there,” Deprime replied.
“All right. Thanks.”
Cygne wasn’t sure why Deprime was smiling like the rigellor who ate the volucris, as she stepped into the hallway, but there was a lot she didn’t understand about those females.
“Greetings. Are either of you able to take me to where the ceremony is happening this morning?” she asked the pair of guards.
“Of course,” both males replied at once, making her smile.
“I’ll do it. I outrank you.” The male with silver hair stepped forward.
The other guard smirked in defeat, as he resumed his stiff stance by the door.
“My name’s Cygne. I appreciate your help. This place has so many halls and levels, I’m bound to get lost.”
“Vogel.” He tapped his chest. “The Atelier is a large place. You look very lovely. I like your bold gown selection.”
“Thank you.”
Cygne paused at a floor-to-ceiling window and took a glimpse out of the Atelier. Unfortunately, it was early and still dark as night, so she couldn’t take in the view of Olor outside. Yesterday had been such a blur as they landed, she spent most of it looking at her broodmates.
“So, you’re a guard here,” she commented casually as they moved on. “How do you like doing that?”
“We take rotations, so it doesn’t get boring.”
“That makes sense. I don’t think I could ever do that. I want to crawl out of my skin if I can’t stay busy.”
“Then it’s a good thing you won’t ever be a guard.”
“Oh really. Why’s that, besides the boredom thing?” Cygne looked at the guard sideways.
“Well, you’re a female,” Vogel said matter of fact.
“And guarding is something females aren’t allowed to do, like hunting?” she queried curiously.
“You are an odd female. Sorry, that was rude,” Vogel quickly amended.
“I am odd,” she laughed. “I realize males are stronger, but with practice, I bet some females would make good guards.”
“I guess, and with the right weapons. But I can’t imagine any of them putting themselves at risk.”
“Not even to protect their people, as you do?” Cygne tilted her head.
“It’s our job to guard females in general, the candidates especially.” Vogel smiled.
“Because Olor females are rare.” She nodded, remembering that detail.
“Yes. You are amusing.”
“I was raised among foreigners.” Cygne shrugged.
The only way she was going to learn about the Olor was to ask questions. And it was easier to talk to some people, like Anitra and Vogel.
“So, you’re aspiring to fight with the Legion.” Vogel grinned. “It might actually be easier than fighting with those candidates for the right to mate the Drakes’ heirs. That business makes me glad I’m not female.” He shook his head.
“It is rather tedious. You want to swap? I bet you’d look great in this gown,” she snickered.
“I’ll pass. We are here.” Vogel stopped where the corridor intersected with a sparkling vaulted hall, which was quickly filling with guests, despite the early hour.
“Thank you. I enjoyed our chat.” Cygne bowed to Vogel.
“It was my pleasure.” He returned the gesture then left.
She looked at all the people, mustered her courage and ventured into the large gallery.
“Cygne, what are you doing here early?” Belni came up behind her.
Cygne stiffened up. She didn’t have a chance to seek out the broodmates, before the Matron discovered her.
“The candidates are supposed to make a grand entrance, once we introduce you,” Belni continued as she pulled her aside.
A huge weight was instantly lifted off Cygne’s shoulders. From the way Belni spoke, she hadn’t been disqualified after her tragic interview. But she had managed to screw up again.
“I’m sorry. I finished dressing and had one of the guards bring me here. I didn’t realize I was causing trouble.” Cygne’s brow furrowed.
“It is good to be prompt. Although I’m not quite sure what you are wearing. I must have a word with Anitra.”
“What’s wrong with it?” She looked down at the silky, deep-red gown. It was nicer than all the things she’d grown up wearing.
“At an occasion like this, a female wears white.”
Cygne glanced around, and sure enough all the females wore white. No wonder Deprime was smirking, and Vogel commented on my bold choice. I must
be cursed to constantly be the pariah, she groaned. And not only are you an outcast, but you got your new friend in trouble.
“I didn’t know. Please don’t blame Anitra. Most of what was left in the dressing room was colorful, so I chose this gown, while Anitra was busy helping the others get ready,” she quickly replied, nervously biting her lip.
“I see. Well, it’ll have to do, since there’s no time to find something else.” Belni studied Cygne in her gown. “It actually doesn’t look bad.”
“Oh, good.” She relaxed, but Belni continued to eye her critically. “Did I miss a clasp?” Cygne studied the ornate bodice.
“No, it’s fine. I never asked, Cygne, how old are you?”
“Twenty-three orbits.”
Cygne wondered if she was too old, by the way Belni stared, wearing an odd expression. The broodmates said many Olor were already mated by her age.
“Hmm,” Belni mused, then shook her head. “Wait in here. The others should be along soon. Then you’ll have a chance to meet both sets of broodmates.” The Matron gestured into a small side-room.
“All right. Thank you,” she said as Belni left her alone.
I get to see and talk to them again. Her wings vibrated exuberantly.
Cygne paced the waiting room, trying to tamp down her excitement, but it refused to be squelched. She was on yet another lap when the other females entered, twittering happily. They all paused gaping at her, then instantly burst into peals of laughter.
“Oh my goodness, Deprime, I thought you were joking,” Tristis snorted.
“I told you, I wasn’t.” Deprime held her stomach as she giggled.
Just like every other female in attendance, they wore white.
“I will fly as fast as my wings can carry me, and find you something else to wear,” Anitra said in horror as she stared at Cygne’s gown.
“No. I chose this gown, and it’s perfectly fine,” she insisted.
“I know you’re not from Olor, I should’ve pulled out the remaining gowns that would’ve worked.” Anitra looked like she was about to cry.
“And deprive us of a good laugh?” Tristis admonished Anitra.
Ruffled Feathers (Once Upon a Harem Book 5) Page 12
